Peekaboo
by Gleek Princess
Summary: Will tends to miss things. Luckily for him, usually it's the little things he misses, and it doesn't matter much. But this. This is something he can't skim over with his eyes. Because this time, there will be consequences. Irrevocable ones.


Peekaboo

Rating: PG-13 for language and violence  
Pairings: None  
Genre: Angst, Suspense(?) -don't know if this is suspense. O.O-  
Summary: Prompt Fill on the Angst Meme. (an older prompt)  
_Potential scenario for the spoiler 2x08 where Will sees something done to Kurt and finally steps in.  
__Will catches Karofsky in the process of strangling Kurt. It felt like the longest 3.62 seconds of his life as he ran to help his student.  
__Bonus points  
__-During those few moments Will laments on all that could be/will be lost._

DISCLAIMER: Why are these even necessary? (in a bored reciting monotone) I do not own Glee or any of its characters. All characters are the property of Ryan Murphy, and indirectly, God. Copyright infringement not intended.  
One day, I want someone to go, "YES, I OWN GLEE! I'M GOING TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD (of glee) AND RULE WITH AN IRON FIST! PUCKLEBERRY! WEMMA! GO! GO! GO!" or something along those lines.

* * *

Will isn't the oblivious teacher that everyone seems to think he is.

No, really. Sure, sometimes he's caught up in his drama with Emma or with Terri or with Sue and he tends to let the little things in his Glee Club slide by, but he really does care about his students, and does try to support and comfort them, to know them well enough to know when something is wrong.

He knows Kurt Hummel pretty well. Will would like to say that he's always done right by the kid, but he knows that he hasn't. It wasn't until the fiasco with his father's heart attack that he really ever interacted with him. And yeah, he regrets that, but everything turned out alright in the end, so… he still had his chance.

If he's been keeping a watchful eye on Kurt lately, that's what started it. At first it's just because he's wondering how the kid's holding up, juggling four honors classes, rehearsals every day, and now a sick father at home. If he's honest with himself, he never actually expected to find anything wrong. Kurt was one of those kids made of stone—he had to be, what with the bullying he surely endured every day.

But something had been wrong. First, Kurt just stopped trying for solos. Will had instantly worried that Kurt had given up because of the lack of solos he'd actually gotten, but Kurt had assured him that that wasn't the case. In the weeks that followed, he'd gotten quieter, more withdrawn. Not enough to worry his friends, who were caught up in their own crap, but enough for Will to notice. Will hadn't really started worrying until he'd given the kids a break, and instead of going to talk to his friends, Kurt had tucked himself into a corner and started some homework. And as more and more weeks went on, it became easier for him to become smaller. Those impossibly tight and probably-against-school-dress-code pants were suddenly too loose, his jackets hanging off of his shoulders. Puck had made a joke about how easy Kurt had been to lift in one of the performances. He probably weighed less than one hundred pounds.

Yeah, Will isn't, and was never, oblivious. He'd seen the hints.

But _this_. _This_ isn't anything like what he's seen. Yeah, there've been a couple of shoves in the hallway, but Kurt always brushes those off. Will can't pretend like _this_ isn't happening. He can't hide from _this_. And he doesn't want to.

He takes off, sprinting down the hallway, his blood pounding in his ears. Fuck. _Fuck_.

That jock—Karofsky—has got Kurt pinned up to the wall. There's a menacing smirk on his face and he's whispering nonstop under his breath. Will for some reason is able to take in every detail, even as he runs. Tears are running down Kurt's rapidly paling face as he struggles to get something through his windpipe.

_Fuck he's gonna kill him, he's gonna kill him, fuck, fuck, he's gonna kill him…_

As he gets closer, he can hear the sounds Kurt's making. Tiny whimpers and squeaking sounds as his lips move silently. He can read Kurt's lips—just one simple word: _stop_.

_Stop. Fucking stop it, you're gonna kill him. Fuck, he's gonna die…_

"_You don't know him,_" Will screams to Karofsky in his head, his brain pounding as each footstep reverberates in the halls, slow motion. _"You don't know what he's got to give. He's got everything going for him—Don't you ruin it because you can't compare, you fucking bastard._"

Kurt's hands, which have been scratching at Karofsky's hands all this time _(these past two seconds)_ fall to Kurt's sides, swinging back into the lockers with a dull thud. His eyes are half-lidded.

It's a dream, like running to that door, struggling, sweating, sprinting, and it gets farther and farther away, smaller and smaller, taunting and laughing at you until you wake up. Except—if Will doesn't reach this door… Kurt _won't_ wake up.

But he's so close. He can see Karofsky's fingers now. Pressing into Kurt's throat, those two thumbs, right into his windpipe.

_Don't hurt that. Don't hurt his voice. Oh god, don't break his voice. You'll break his voice. You'll break it and you'll break him._

And he's there, getting a firm grip on Karofsky's shoulder and slamming him against the opposite row of lockers. His mind hasn't caught up yet, still in this weird dream phase, and he knows that he wants to fucking murder Karofsky, but he sees Kurt collapsing and opts to catch the boy instead. He hears Karofsky's footsteps echoing in the halls as he makes his escape, and everything rushes forward as he lays Kurt down on the ground.

His senses are working again, and he looks down to see Kurt struggling to breathe, taking in big gulps of air, one after another, not breathing out in between. The color isn't returning, and Will knows he's not breathing right. It's like he's trying to store oxygen, to fill himself up again. But he can't seem to retain control of himself, and is sputtering and stuttering and coughing, hyperventilating now. And it certainly doesn't help that he's crying.

Will's professional side kicks in and he squeezes Kurt's hand, speaking in a low, calm, hopefully soothing voice. "You gotta breathe out, buddy," he says, "Slow. You're okay. You'll be okay. Just breathe out, okay?"

It's obvious that Kurt hears him, that he's trying, but it's like he doesn't remember how. Will takes Kurt's hand and places it on his own stomach, taking deep breaths himself. "Breathe with me, Kurt. In… out… in… out…" Kurt stutters an exhalation, and Will can't help the smile that breaks over his face. "Good. Good. You got this. In… out… in… out…"

It seems as though Kurt's getting the hang of it, because his shaky breaths are almost in time with Will's, and the paleness of his face has gone down just slightly. Will keeps holding Kurt's hand, but allows him to continue breathing on his own. Those eyes are fluttering, much more comforting than that half-lidded dullness they were before, and all of Will's thoughts about his dying and regrets fly out the window. He's gonna be okay. He's okay.

Kurt's breathing takes almost ten minutes to return back to normal, and when it finally does, he's able to slip into unconsciousness. Will holds onto his hand the entire time as he calls the ambulance, unable to keep his eyes off of Kurt's chest to make sure he's still going. He keeps himself calm and collected, but is running on auto pilot at this point.

And when the ambulance arrives, he watches detached as they tell him that Kurt will be alright, he saved Kurt's life, that he did the right thing.

Will isn't the oblivious man everyone seems to think he is. It just takes 3.62 seconds for him to get a fucking clue.

* * *

Really short, I know. :/ Come on, the duration is 3.62 seconds, so I'm okay, right? Right? Right.

This is the firstest story I've ever written, so I probably screwed everything up. And if I did... ahem, "This is the firstest story I've ever written, so..." I posted it to my livejournal and got some nice comments, so I figured I could post it here.

By the way, the end isn't intended to be Will!bashing. I don't know if anyone interpreted it that way (probably not, and I look like an idiot), but it's not. Will is pretty cool. And SUPERMEGAFOXYAWESOMEHOT *looks around* what?

Yes, I know the whole helping-with-the-breathing thing has been done before. I am just a person, people.

I'm a very frightened cookie, so I'm not going to say much more. In fact, I am going to scamper away now, off to tea with the Hatter and the Hare. Wait- Glee. Of to... breadsticks... with Santana and Brittany *tucks video camera behind back*

Yeah, bye!


End file.
